Thanksgiving: Part Deux (as promised)

28.Nov.08: Despite the lack of electricity during most of the day, and the unstable situation in Mumbai, four expats gathered together last Thursday evening for a celebratory feast. Nothing would stand in the way of gluttony! Not even the fact that no hired-cars were available because they were not about to risk driving in the rains. Donning our ostentatious Wellies, rolled-up pants, and overnight bags (just in case), my roommate and I juggled the prepared dishes, extra groceries, and single umbrella, as we made our way up the driveway to flag down (with what hands??) an auto-rickshaw.
How this unsteady mode-of-transportation seemed to be the only viable option that stormy night is beyond my non-engineering mind. Yet, there we were. If I’d had a free hand, there would have been more visual documentation of how ridiculous we must have looked! Any attempt to keep water off my good-natured roommate was futile. Every time I shifted bags to shake an elbow towards the on-coming autos, she became my umbrella’s dumping ground.

Most of the yellow-painted three-wheelers were already packed full. The wait for a ride was so long; my roomie had to sit on the side of the muddy road before she dropped our increasingly heavy dessert. By the time an empty auto pulled over for us (probably for a good laugh), we were completely drenched…and willing to pay whatever fortune our driver requested. The fortitude produced by the promise of a large meal, laced with nostalgia, is incredible!

Our friend’s warm, clean apartment was such a welcome sight. Another friend arrived shortly after us, and together, the four of us shared a glorious meal. My roommate (a Kiwi, who lived in the States for a couple Thanksgivings as a child) generously provided two essentials: the cranberry sauce (which came in a jar, but we were in no position to be choosy) and the stuffing. Our hostess managed to acquire and/or produce two large chickens, mashed potatoes, homemade gravy, fruit salad, and broccoli (the first I’d seen here!!!) smothered in Velveeta cheese (a treat from home). It was beautiful.

After making ourselves sick from eating more food in one sitting than we were used to, we returned to watching the news about Mumbai. I’d followed the reports via the internet whenever we’d had power throughout the day, but it was fascinating to watch the news unfold on a television. We called friends in the area to make sure they were still okay. We discussed the implications for the rest of South Asia. And we were devastated for the citizens of India and Pakistan.

We are in an area that is traditionally known to be fairly peaceful. Despite our feeling of safety, we are not naïve to the fact that anything is possible. A local law college was shut down last month due to riots between castes. What may appear to be a religious conflict is, in actuality, a clash between the have and the have-nots; between those who believe they have power over others, and those who have grown tired of being oppressed. It is an issue that has been brewing for centuries.

At first, this was cause for hesitation in moving here: how can I only live for a year in a culture just waking up to its overwhelming social problems, and expect to make an impact? How can I expect to find any hope? But despite the risks and my fears, my heart has been changed. I cannot imagine a better time to be here. Among the youth, there is an openness to discuss these issues; and for me, the opportunity for a deeper understanding of those which I have barely even scratched the surface.
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Part of my hesitation came from the mixture of rich and poor. Despite my being a volunteer here, I am living in one of the nicer neighborhoods. Granted six of us live there to make it affordable, but we feel safe, and it came furnished.

Every day, I take an auto to work. It picks us up at the edge of our driveway, and put-puts for ten minutes past a river, which smells like a soiled diaper. Thousands of families have set-up house on the slopes that border this river. Their coconut-leaf roofs peak just above the “sidewalk,” so that the home life of the many street children and beggars we pass each day is easier to ignore. The suffering right outside my door (literally, two buildings down) is appalling.

What I find even more appalling is learning how I have become one of those “rich” people who appears complacent to the “poor” around me: it took two whole days before I heard about the damage inflicted upon these families by the recent record-breaking rains of a passing cyclone. Apparently, a nearby reservoir had reached its capacity of 22-feet, and had to be opened to relieve pressure. Waves gushed forcefully through the opened shutters from ten o’clock Thursday (Thanksgiving) morning until later that evening.

Water levels rose quickly, leaving families occupying the river bed with little time to evacuate. The current swept through their fragile shelters, indiscriminately snatching whatever it could find, including, in its greed, human life. Overall, 51 (documented) lives were lost; approximately 1,380 areas were affected; and at least 168,000 people have been impacted by the flooding.

[A picture of the water being released, from the local paper]

When I first heard this from some local friends, I was told the families most at risk were given no warning. While I cannot verify this fact, I simply cannot imagine how these particular families would have gotten “the message” (most can’t read, probably don’t have phone access, certainly don’t have internet or television…so if the government sent a warning, they would have had to go door to door, which is highly unlikely!) .

The river level covered all but the little bit of roof that we see poking over the sidewalk for several days after the initial release. There was no chance of ignoring the increase in numbers of cows and families that now occupied the edges of the streets. Massive relief efforts, however, are supposedly in full swing. The Government is dispensing funds for families to rebuild damage done to their homes. Moreover, the deceased’s’ next-of-kin will receive an equivalent of US $2,060 for the life lost. Um, yep, I’m sure that should about cover it…?????? Sigh.

To think that this happened right down my street without my realizing it frustrates me to no end. What am I doing if I’m not interacting with my neighbors? If I don’t know what’s happening in my own neighborhood? At least my eyes have been opened to my weakness in this area. I have hope that I will not continue to waste any opportunity to learn about the good, and the bad of my temporary home; to really understand how the choices we make impact those around us; and how important it is to see the whole picture, not just what’s on my immediate right and left. Ooh boy, is this gonna be fun…

A friend of mine, an amazingly energetic human rights lawyer, models her "formal" saree for you all...in her hair is a strand of jasmine, which are sold on the side of the road. Many women will wear these flowers in their hair on a daily basis. For her, it's just a special occasion. The strands smell soooooooo good (especially in contrast to the nearby garbage dump/public restroom...oh, I mean, river).

Wouldn't you know I'd go and ruin a perfectly sweet photo?

Surprise...

Last Friday, we were able to throw a western bridal shower for a friend flying home to get married next week! Luckily, we were able to pull it off-it was meant to be a tea party, but it wouldn't have felt right if everything went as planned...our electricity went out just as we were going to boil the water. So, the majority of the party was done by candlelight, but it was still fun to celebrate with her.

"the surprise"

For all of our national guests, it was their first "shower." We had fun sharing about different wedding traditions, which were explained through a couple games:

Her fiance had answered a series of questions about his future-bride. She heard the questions, and then had to guess what his response would be: as this picture demonstrates, certain questions (even despite our attempt to censor the questions/responses, so as to be audience-appropriate) still managed to fully embarrass the guest-of-honor. Such a good sport!

A simple game of "wedding word charades" proved to be very educational...can anyone guess what she's acting out here??

Thanksgiving 2008: Part I

As Monsoon Season comes on full force, so do the beanies and wool coats. Yes, even here. Even in the humidity. Several of my miniscule co-workers wear three layers of clothing under their jackets. I shudder at the thought of one moving to Australia in February, where she will live for three years. Okay, in reality I envy her for having this opportunity; but I do fear for her losing limbs due to frostbite during the winters down under. It is currently 75 degrees Fahrenheit as I write, and yet, she told me she had worn socks, gloves, and six layers of clothing to bed this week! Ah, winter in South Asia.

We experienced thunder and lightning the other night. Waking up in the wee small hours of the morning to what sounded like the aluminum roof of our building cracking open, our awe and wonder was best expressed by one of my roommate's deep "WOAH." By the time we got up for work, that particular, powerful storm had passed.

Schools were closed yesterday because the streets were too flooded. Whereas at home, flooding is seen as a nuisance, here it is a major hazard. There are exposed wires, basically everywhere, and very close to the ground. On more than one occasion, I have almost choked on some strung at chin-level in my neighborhood. The water-and- electrical-wire combo does not bode well for the large quantities of humans wading through the city to get to work, school, food, higher ground…wherever. Plus, the pathways most frequented by pedestrians contain manholes every ten feet, or so.

In an effort to speed up the draining process, these death traps are often left wide-open throughout the season. Luckily, I had been warned of this and, therefore, steer clear. On the ride home from work yesterday, however, I witnessed the rescue of a pitiful soul, who could not have known the manhole was even there due to the gallons of rain water that had accumulated around it into a ten-foot-wide pond. Others watched a woman walking in front of them disappear completely, as she was submerged in one such hole. Luckily, people were close enough to fish her out. And still another friend was horrified to see a man fall into a ditch hidden on the side of a road by the muddy waters and have to be rescued by others that literally dove in after him. Can you imagine? Not knowing how to swim, as most of my co-workers confess to, and having to talk about nearly drowning in a drainage ditch? Ugh.

My biggest concern, however, is for the number of released laborers who live at the bottom slope of their villages. An aspect of the everyday oppression this group of people experience, and (sadly) expect, is being treated as the lowest-of-the-low in their society. So low, they are not even considered a part of the caste system (which is illegal here, but so ingrained, even educated people do not realize they are perpetuating the problem). As a result, they are given the worst land to build their homes upon: the most vulnerable, lowest, and furthest away from any roads or towns. Essentially, they are told to wait at the back of the line…for everything.

Home types range in the villages (just like in the city), but the most common materials used by our families are mud, straw, and tree-branch roofs. The community works hard to keep these clean and presentable, and the homes are well-made. But when the storms come, they are not able to withstand the elements. Rebuilding takes time, energy, and money that most of our families work very hard to earn and save. Not long ago, one middle-aged couple proudly took me on a "tour" of their newly-upgraded home. Their neighbors had all pitched in, and they had saved for months to build this exquisite mud structure: one AND A HALF rooms, with tall reeds that held up other reeds in what resembled a covered-porch. It was impressive. I'm anxious to visit their village this month to see how it has fared.

Today, Thanksgiving, I have much to be grateful for, as I sit at home high and dry. Due to the flooding, our office has been closed-so I actually HAVE to take the day off. Well, if I must…Cars are staying off the streets because of the high waters, so my co-workers that ride scooters and motorcycles to the office wouldn't stand a chance. Plus, many are without electricity (including us, on and off, as mentioned in my earlier post) and several inches of water are covering the floor of others' homes.

Oh, there is so much more to say about today alone. I've written a small novella already, however, and will, therefore, save the rest for another post. Stay tuned…

The latest...

Thank you for all your concerned messages, and for your prayers. Tensions are still high, but everyone on staff is accounted for and we are all safe. My apologies for the delayed update! Here are just a few glimpses of the roads before the worst of the flooding: